


When I Am Dead

by spectreshepard



Series: But I Remained [3]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, M/M, hurt and no damn comfort, this is just straight up angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:41:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreshepard/pseuds/spectreshepard
Summary: (Written for a prompt fill on tumblr -- the way you said 'I love you', #28: When I Am Dead)For Shepard, it had been a future. For Ryder, it's now a distant past.





	When I Am Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble from my blog, whoops. This is obviously in the very far aftermath of Outbound Signal, which is the foundation of this series!

Scott fiddles idly with his omnitool, the aches and pains of the days trials slowly falling from his shoulders as he leans against the headrest of his bed, pillows stacked for comfort and warmth. Scott’s already closed himself off for the night, needing space and quiet after Kadara’s tense situation spent all day hanging by a thread he happened to be holding. 

“Pathfinder, you have an unread audio log.” SAM’s voice crackles through the room, bathed in Kadara’s yellow light. Scott squints at the brightness, hand reaching up to shield his eyes as he glances across the room to SAM’s router.

“Activate night-shift display, SAM. Being blinded isn’t fun.” Scott huffs gently, omnitool flickering on his arm. 

“Yes, Pathfinder. Shall I forward the log to your omnitool?” SAM asks as the room grows comfortably dark. 

“Yeah, thanks, SAM.” Scott murmurs, dropping his hand from his eyes as they focus back on his omniholo, and his blood runs cold as he sees who the log is from.

“SAM, how did he… how did he send this?” Scott ignores the way his voice is shaking, eyes roving over every letter on the screen to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. Two, four, seven times and the name is still there.

Caderyn Shepard.

“It was triggered by a memory chip in your firearm, Scott.” SAM explains levelly, and Scott looks over at where his Valkyrie rifle lies on the coffee table, carefully taken apart. He’d intended on cleaning it out, given all the dust it had picked up on Eos and Kadara. It must’ve triggered a data transfer. Scott frowns, sitting back, and pulling up the log with shaking hands.

The minute he hears _his_ voice again, he has to screw his eyes shut, tears stinging as his throat closes up.

_“Hey, Scott. Glad to see you’re looking after Valkyrie, given that you had to take her apart to get this. I know we’ve said goodbye, but there’s a lot I won’t be able to say in person. Things that I… need you to know, when you’re out there in Andromeda.”_

Scott takes a shuddering breath, daring to open his eyes, watching as the soundwaves play across his holoscreen. He’d missed him, beyond telling, and to have his voice here is both a comfort and a curse. 

A comfort, because that voice was something he could call home, once. A safe harbour, a warmth that Scott knew was reserved for his presence. It was the kind of memory he could lose himself in for hours, and pretend that he didn’t have humanity’s fate resting on his shoulders. 

A curse, because Scott knows that voice is long dead. He’d slept while Shepard had lived out his life, and Scott hates not knowing how that life might have been. And he keeps thinking how it might’ve been if he’d stayed, too. Both ideas fill him to the bones with a grief that he can’t speak plainly, it only shows in his eyes and shaking hands at night when he has nothing else.

_“You’re gonna do some mind-blowing things out there. Hell, I can’t even get my head around Andromeda, and I’ve spent the past few months fighting Collectors. It’s such a huge leap, and I’ll be the first to admit that it scares me to death, but your vision has always been something people loved about you. You’re not scared of what’s out there. Andromeda is just going to fall right into your stride, I know it.”_

The gentle rumble of his laugh pulls at every single heartstring, and Scott buries his face in his arms, pulled tight around his knees as the recording continues to play.

_“And you are…. far more than you give yourself credit for. As a soldier, as a friend, as… more than that. I’ve never quite met anyone like you, Scott. And I don’t think I ever will again. But I’m okay with that, because I got to share in some small part of your story, and that means more to me than I can tell you. I’m glad I met you on that station. I’m glad you let me be a part of your life. I’m always grateful that you walked into mine.”_

Scott doesn’t bother to hide his watery laugh, his door is shut to the outside world and he can pretend he’s somewhere else for now. Somewhere warmer, with familiar laughter and a wicked smile thrown his way from a man he misses more than anything.

_“I’m going to leave it there, before this turns into a rambling mess. So… well, you know what I’m going to say, Scott. You always know.”_

Scott knows. Scott knows, and he says it, imagining a granite headstone instead of warm arms. Imagining a grave, instead of a home. 

“I loved you too.”


End file.
